3 poems for new seasons, Christmastime and others
stopping by Frost
gray day
black branches
cold outside
in mid-afternoon
it’s already getting dark
meaning that
November plays it part
in the drama of the seasons
in these parts
what is it
of the woods
they’re
lovely
dark
and
deep
wonderful for liturgy
in recitation
as a legacy
we quote famous things
once more with greater feeling
now and then
look for inspiration
anywhere
and sometimes recall
to look
you know
inside ourselves
remembering that
we are
lovely
dark
and
deep as well
there is no peace on Earth unless
so here we go
it’s Christmastime
a holy season
some
might recall
that has become a cosmic
thing
on planet Earth
and I’m not sure
how much we should mind
since
maybe the Christmas values get through
anyway
something about the cheer in giving
as well as
the fun in receiving
remember that Peace on Earth
is a staple
quotation of the season
that could always turn into
rhetoric
and discourse
meaning we may talk about it
as a worldly thing
through and beyond
any one
sect or group
so we could take our chances
to be people of the season
wherever
whomever on Earth
we might be
believing
peace ultimately
to be
a practical consideration
in addition to
philosophy
and foundational pin
of faith
human faith
allied with God
and yet on our own
to own
Peace on Earth
why don’t’ we
and
we just might
an un-pretty plan
(poet’s agenda)
let the pretty verse be offered by
someone else
here there is a need
to be plain
keep Earth or don’t
have Earth or not
make up our minds
God is waiting
not saving us in this
‘til it’s too late for us
to move in with judgment
when we could have lived without
paradise imposed
but at our pleasure
being our design
and plan
c l couch
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
(from) “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” by Robert Frost
photo by Dmytro Vynohradov on Unsplash
(x = space)
x
x
some poems for you today
(some poems of the day)
x
x
night will come on
x
second full day of winter
a thoughtful day
perhaps
x
day before the night
before the day
still a blue or purple day
white or gold
in the offing
x
another yet another
gray day outside
to look at it
to feel it
too
there’s something of a chill
x
maybe it’s three ghosts
warming up
in an ethereal bullpen
before descending upon London
or wherever
whoever Scrooge
might try to sleep
inside posts of tarnished gold
having eaten
unappreciated food
and nothing for the child
Want or Ignorance
not yet
x
we can await
transition
transformation
of a night
in a great story
sometimes on Earth
the real Earth
to know
x
x
the allusion is, of course, “A Christmas Carol” by Charles Dickens, often published with other Christmas stories
x
x
multiplicity
x
sigh
a great God
comes to Earth
having been here already
shooed us from the
garden
set an angel with a sword
to keep us out
should we find it
however accidently
once again
x
a God
who’s always here
already
thus begging a confusion
since we make a deal
of God arriving
though God is here
x
well
the ancients
didn’t have that problem
paradox in time
like characters
from Bible stories
costumed as one’s own
also
in Old English
for example
without a future tense
x
so that
every time is now
and the next thing
and the thing
that was
no worries
x
God is always here
always arriving
too
everything a kind of participle
or a gerund
the subject in or as
a tense
that is all timelines
all the time
x
confused mortality
perhaps
yet replicating
meter of a chaosed clock
that has numbers
that
for the sake of our philosophy
are movable
forgettable
in the exigencies
of moments’
having
and remembering
also anticipating
x
always the birth
always the apocalypse
as well
meaning that
time and meaning
have all seeds
and growth
and harvest
with all accounts
as with all stories
every gospel
all the same
with kairos room for change
here and now
and then
and what’s to come
all the same
here
and in a kind of ancient
(that means contemporary
too)
crazy and amenable
as now
x
was
is
will
as now
x
bless our ancients
for knowing something
of
the ways things magically
and really are
today
from yesterday
into divine best-guessing
for tomorrow
x
x
servile
x
what shall we say
that’s permanent
except that God is love
God is a spirit
plus all better metaphors
a rock
a lion
x
who has an investment
in every good
and reasoned thing
in need
for us to call it miracle
x
water from
desert stone
food in ravens’ mouths
that they abey
until
delivery
x
God strives
to keep the prophets
whole
for the rest of us to
hear
and to absorb
the entire
story
letting
the wisdom
and the warnings
to soak in
through all
our cells
supernal messages
easier metaphors
for meaning
x
no riddles
save for fun
sometimes erudition
(though the simple ones
are better
aren’t they
Bilbo)
no requirements
beyond a willing
and created nature
x
there being
no stars for gain
(there are no Sneetches
and there is no
McBean)
no refectories
with sainted machines
dispensing
when the answer
or indulgence
might be right
that is
Earthly correct
x
rather leave
our kitchens
for serving
real food
for need
and in a turn
for pleasure
since there’s no reason
service should not be
pleasant
as well as exigent
with even
seasons to remember
the life outside
inside
x
the gospel within
food
perhaps
though better
after
so that we might be
sated twice
with victuals
and nourishment
from stories
forgetting not
our own
x
x
the clock that smiles
x
tomorrow go to church
or last night
this evening
later the next day
until the sun
decides
to set
and an indulgent clock
must by the maker
say
it’s had enough
x
there is this morning
too
there is right now
and shall we worship
God
inside a heartbeat
savoring the next
secured
inside
the believing beat
of now
x
x
c l couch
x
x
photo by Dominic Tham on Unsplash
x
x
God bless
our in-between days
x
Invitation’s Curling—Come in, Already
If Christmas is the first day, then
This is the sixth
But then that makes the fifth
The twelfth
So maybe Christmas is its own
And then the following
Twelve days are tributes,
Are a season ‘til the sixth,
The magi
The baptism by his cousin John
The revelation by a dove
Of who he is,
Which is a lot of growing up in
Twelve or thirteen days
He was in a manger
Only six days ago
And soon, depending on the full moon
And the spring,
He will be grown and on a forty-day
Journey to Jerusalem
Such things will happen in that time
The biggest coming later
A cataclysm of the each and sky
Pierced by hammered beam
And crushing empire
The abhorrence of nature, even human
The death of everything
That had been hopeful
The death of him
The death of us
Any prospects in an honest joy of living
Then the count of days, only after
And by going back,
Really begins
But before so much of that
There is this
Half-season of Christmas
Sing the carols
Claim the gifts
Play and work
Burn the homely fires
Testify to this
The witness in each moment
Christmastide
The time no one will wait for,
That is wait for well
It has arrived
However romantic,
The darkness of anticipation’s passed
We are here now
This is the best where and when
We have
C L Couch
Photo by Sora Sagano on Unsplash
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